Stage 1 of the 2010 NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest has been judged and I have been deemed better than average. I came in fourth out of 25 in my group, giving me 18 of a possible 25 points. Everyone -- 600 authors in all -- will proceed to the second stage of Round 1. The top five authors from each of the groups combined scores from stages 1 and 2 will proceed to Round 2. That puts me somewhere between 80th and 61st out of that starting 600: that's a mid-to-high B. Not good enough.

My story was a bit disappointing to me, but I keep telling myself it was a killer of a prompt. I had to create a 1000-word flash fiction piece in 48 hours using these elements: 

Genre: Mystery
Location: Homeless shelter (sounds easy so far...or not. A 1000-word mystery? Come on.)
Object: Fishing net

I wrote an entirely different story during a friends' write-in at Local Coffee in San Antonio but it just wasn't hitting me like I knew it should. And my valued critique partner, Beckie Ugolini, pointed out that there was a probably logic problem with how I was offing the narrator. Back to the drawing board 30 hours remaining, some of which would be taken up by sleep, meals and self-falgellation.

To get me through this difficult prompt -- and now difficult time limit -- I went humorous. I figured I could stuff in ridiculous details in at a ridiculous pace that way. I also stretched the concept of the object from a fishing net to fishnet stockings.

Here's the version I turned in. Have fun but don't expect Chekhov. Stage 2 of Round 1 begins tomorrow at midnight.

A Purchase at Penniless Park Destitute residents of Penniless Park may only remain residents if they are truly, utterly poor, so when it is discovered someone has made an Internet purchase, Detective Yuri Thrundle is brought in to sort out which of three residents should be evicted. Accusations, pants and bodies fly as Thrundle gets to the bottom of the mystery. 

A Purchase at Penniless Park

Penniless Park was built in the early 1900s as a false limbs factory for the clumsy and luckless as well as for wounded soldiers returning from wars. With such a name, its conversion to a homeless shelter twenty years ago was a simple one. Even the old bronze sign out front remained unchanged.

HELPING THE UNFORTUNATE TO STAND AGAIN

Penniless Park was a godsend in these lean times, providing the community's impoverished much-needed shelter and meals. Spots were so much in demand that strict guidelines were established to insure that only "the highest of the low" would be allowed to remain. The most important of these rules was that residents must be verifiably down-and-out. Truly impoverished. Utterly incapable of making any purchase. Shop-owners, institutions, even street vendors served as unpaid informants to Penniless Park since everyone in town had some friends or family vying for a bed there. So when a young librarian reported that one of a possible three of these supposedly well-vetted residents had completed a purchase using a public computer, the chairperson of the board at Penniless Park called Detective Yuri Thrundle in a tizzy.

Thrundle was the only detective in the phone book because, though their town was very poor, it was also virtually crime-free. Such a lack of work made Thrundle quiet poor himself and thus eager for any assignment. Thrundle shoved a stack of receipts, a Penniless Park brochure and a fat pistol into his desk drawer before answering the phone.

"So, not technically a crime, eh?" he said. "A purchase? Wow. I mean what'd they buy? PrettyPenny fishnet stockings. Black. Size Skinny." He opened his laptop. "What's the website? TheIncessantStocker.com. Here it is. America's Fetishest Overnight Stocking Supplier. Sounds serious. Was there a computer record? Librarian accidentally trashed it, eh? Unfortunate. I'll be over tomorrow to question those three. Please have the suspects ready."

The stockings Thrundle had purchased after the call arrived overnight, as the site had promised. He studied the suspects' profiles over lunch. In the early afternoon, they sat side-by-side in a small room. He stood facing them.

There was Vira Seaton, a mottled, thin-faced woman who kept itching her legs through her jeans. She looked to her right at the man with dark circles around his eyes. Horace O'Kay, known porn afficianado and free slobberer. Next to him was a young, wide-eyed, blonde man.

"Kriss Dresher." His voice was strongly effeminite.

"Very well. Thank you. I am Detective Yuri Thrundle. I'm here to find." He spun on them, giving them a start. "The purchaser." Like a birthday party magician, he fumbled out a pair of fishnet stockings and let them dangle a second or two for effect.

"PrettyPenny fishnet stockings. Black. Size Skinny. Look familiar?"

They shook their heads.

Thrundle stood in front of Vira.

"The only woman. It doesn't look good for you, Ms. Seaton. Try this on, please." He held out a stocking for her.

Vira lifted her pant leg to reveal a trail mix of skin afflictions. Acne. Bites. Warts. Outcroppings of too-long-for-a-leg hair.

"Holy Lord, woman!"

Thrundle set down the trash can and stood in front of Dresher.

"Don't even start on me," he said, handing Thrundle a folded note. "You need to see this. I wrote- Sorry. I found it outside Horace's room this morning."

The note read:

DEER HOOKR,
I THINK YOUR PRETTY. I WANT TO BUY YOU SUMTHING.
HORIS

"Fond of gift-giving, are we?" O'Kay looked to be in shock. "In my experience, Mr. O'kay, where there are gifts, there are purchases!"

Dresher tilted his head toward O'Kay.

"Pervert much?"

"I think I've seen all I need to see," Thrumble said. "Mr. O'Kay, I'm going to ask you to move your things out by morning."

"But. I. I didn't write-"

"That's right, sicko," Dresher said. "You're outta here. Now maybe I'll get a neighbor who keeps me up- Sorry. Who doesn't keep me up all night, moaning. Someone about yay tall and-"

O'Kay stood, a blank look on his face, and walked to the window and sat on the sill.

"What do you think you're doing?" Thrundle said. "Come sit down."

O'Kay leaned away and fell out of sight.

"Oh no," Dresher said, devoid of any emotion.

Seaton screamed, then coughed deeply as a result. Then swallowed what she had produced.

Thrundle dry heaved but recovered quickly.

"Let's go, both of you." Thrundle led the remaining two out of the room, around a corner and out the front door onto the sidewalk. In a dozen steps, the three were looking down at a sobbing, weak-looking, but otherwise perfectly well O'kay.

Thrundle shook his head.

"You jumped from a first floor window?"

O'kay looked around then up at Dresher.

"They weren't my stockings. That wasn't my note. Tell them, man."

Dresher turned away and showed O'Kay the back of his hand.

"How could you?" O'Kay yelled. He grabbed Dresher's pants to stop him.

The pants fell easily to the ground. Dresher stood silent, his pants on the ground and wearing fishnet stockings. Caught red-handed and stocking-legged, he emitted a deflated squeal and dropped to his knees.

Thrundle bent down, lifted the side of Dresher's shirt and read the exposed tag on the stockings.

"PrettyPenny fishnet stockings. Black. Size Skinny." He stood up, chin out. "Mr. O'Kay, I owe you an enormous an apology. Mr. O'Kay? Mr. O'Kay!"

O'Kay's eyes were locked on Dresher and his PrettyPenny fishnet stockings. There was presently no reaching him.

"Ah, well," Thrundle said. "Justice has been served and that's all that matters, I suppose."

THE END